


Right Where We Belong

by annabagnell



Series: Right Where We Belong [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Birth, Cute Kids, M/M, Mpreg, Other, Parentlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-13
Updated: 2014-02-13
Packaged: 2018-01-12 04:08:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1181691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabagnell/pseuds/annabagnell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlotte looked up at papa, eyes wide. "Papa, what was that?" She felt it again - a bump under her hand, soft and gentle. "What's in your belly?"</p><p>John smiled brightly and patted the cushion beside him. "Hop up here and I'll tell you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Right Where We Belong

**Author's Note:**

> This is a cute one, one of my favorites. Beware: fluffy feels. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoy!

Charlotte was hungry. She had waited as long as she could, trying not to bother Papa, but her tummy was growling and she really wanted a snack before Daddy came home with dinner.

 

She padded out into the sitting room, quiet for a few moments as she watched Papa sleep. He was holding his belly in his hands, and Charlotte wondered why Papa was so fat. He'd started to get big like Uncle Mycroft, but he and Daddy didn't talk about diets like Uncle did. Papa seemed to love his belly. He spent a lot of time rubbing and patting it, and made sure that Charlotte knew to be careful around it. 

 

Charlotte waited a few more seconds before her tummy grumbled again, and she walked over until she was standing next to Papa's chair. She reached out, about to poke his stomach, but decided to pat his arm instead. "Papa," she whispered. "I'm hungry. Can you make me a snack?"

 

John sniffed in his sleep and groaned softly, squinting his eyes and shifting to turn on his side. "Mm. Wha--?" John looked at his little girl sleepily and yawned, reaching out to stroke Charlotte's dark, silky hair. “Snack? Okay, sweetheart. Just... give me a minute to get up, all right?"

 

John pushed himself up to sit with a grunt, rubbing the underside of his stomach, and gripped the back of the couch to push himself up from his seat, a long groan escaping his lips. He teetered a bit, then found his balance, a hand going to his back and the other reaching out for Charlotte's. 

 

"What do you want, darling? You can have a banana, or some apple slices, and I think we've got grapes," John explained, his voice rough with sleep as he waddled unsteadily into the kitchen with his daughter.

 

"Apples, please," Charlotte chirped, and swung Papa's hand as they walked. She could see the bottom of Papa's tummy poking out between his jumper and trousers, and when he stopped at the refrigerator to pull out the fruit, she reached forward with a grin and tickled it. 

 

"Got your bellyyyyy!" she crowed, and jumped back, lacing her fingers together and holding them in front of herself as she giggled. "You got a big belly, Papa. Are you getting fat like Uncle Mycroft?"

 

John giggled fondly and smiled down to Charlotte, glad she remembered their little tickle game. His daughter was getting smarter every day. She already had a vocabulary well beyond a normal two year old, who were limited to 'yes', 'no', family members, food, and toys. She was already forming sentences, most of them correct.

 

John took the apple over to the cutting board and began to chop it into slices. "Yes, I've got a big belly, love. But it won't be big for much longer. Daddy and I will explain it to you when he gets home." He slid half of the apple slices onto a plate, and bagged the rest, knowing she wouldn't eat all of them, and began carrying her plate into the sitting room for her. "And don't call Uncle Mycroft fat. That's a naughty thing, very unladylike."

 

"Daddy says he is fat." Charlotte trudged alongside Papa, eyeing his belly and her plate of apples. "What is un-la-dy-like?" When Papa set down the apple slices, Charlotte reached out for one and held it out to Papa, and then took one for herself. She looked up at him expectantly.

 

"It's a bit mean, darling. Uncle Mycroft doesn't like to be called fat. It makes him sad," John said with a smile. He took the apple slice and crunched into it, and then chuckled. "And just because Daddy says it doesn't mean it's okay for you to say it. Daddy can be a bit _unladylike_ sometimes."

 

"Hmph." Charlotte plopped down on the floor and munched on her apple thoughtfully. "Are you sad that you have a big belly?"

 

John grinned before easing back into the sofa, and he grunted, shifting so his belly could rest comfortably in his lap. "Nope. I'm not sad at all. I'm actually very happy, really. And so is Daddy." John gave his belly a loving stroke and finished off his offered apple slice. "I think you're going to be very happy, too. Uncle Mycroft is sad that he's fat because he eats too much. But that's not his fault. Chew with your mouth closed, please."

 

"Sorry." Charlotte swallowed her apple as picked up another slice. "I'm glad you're happy, papa." Papa looked happy, even if sometimes his back hurt and he needed daddy to rub it. "I like your belly. It's pretty." Charlotte gave a toothy smile and reached up to pat the bulge.

 

John smiled and cupped his full belly, his eyes sparkling. "Thank you, sweetheart. Be gentle, though, okay?" He grinned and held Charlotte's hand on his belly, wondering if her sibling would wake up anytime soon so she could feel. He supposed he could start explaining some things to his daughter; Sherlock would be home soon, he knew. "Be very still, Charlotte. And patient."

 

"What's going to happen, papa?" Charlotte asked, and wiggled her hand on papa's skin. She took another bite of her apple and kept her hand as still as she could, papa's tummy warm and firm under her palm.

 

John grinned and rubbed his thumb along his daughter's small hand. "Hopefully, in a minute, you'll feel something moving. Don't be scared though, it's okay, and it doesn't hurt. You'll just feel a little thump against your han-- Oh, did you feel that, sweetheart?"

 

Charlotte looked up at papa, eyes wide. "Papa, what was that?" She felt it again - a bump under her hand, soft and gentle. "What's in your belly?"

 

John smiled brightly and patted the cushion beside him. "Hop up here and I'll tell you." He helped Charlotte climb up until she was sitting beside him, looking up to him expectantly, and to his belly, almost concerned. "You know how we've put all of your old things back in your room, like your crib and where we used to change you, and all your old baby toys?"

 

"Yes," she replied, laying her hand on papa's belly again and then looking back up at papa. "My baby things." She had been confused when daddy moved all the old things back into her room, but daddy had only smiled and patted her head when she told him she didn't need those things.

 

"Well, Charlotte, they're not for you anymore," John began explaining softly, stroking her hair. "They're going to be for a brand new baby. The new baby will sleep in your old crib and play with your old things. And that baby will be your little brother."

 

"Brother?" Charlotte asked, and looked down at where her hand rested on papa's tummy. "Baby brother, in here?"

 

"Very good, love," John said, giving her small back a rub. "Yes, you've got a baby brother growing in here. And he'll be coming out to meet us soon. How do you feel about that, eh?"

 

Charlotte's eyes went wide again and she looked up at papa. "How'd he get in there, papa?" she whispered. "Did you eat him?"

 

John laughed, his belly jumping a little, and he beamed. "No, I didn't eat him, silly girl." He licked his lips and he thought for a moment to come up with a good, appropriate explanation. "Well. Daddy and I decided we wanted another baby, and because we love each other, your brother decided to start growing in here. See, it's nice and safe in my tummy. It's warm, and he gets lots of food, and I protect him. You were in my belly once too."

 

"I was?" Charlotte leaned forward, jaw dropped. "How long was I in there? How did I get _out_?"

 

John chuckled nervously and cleared his throat. He’d already said too much, obviously. "Uh. Ask Daddy when he gets home. He'll tell you." He quickly changed subject. "Finish your apples, please."

 

Charlotte blinked a few times and contemplated sliding out of the chair. "Baby," she said softly, and patted papa's round tummy. She thought for a moment and then leaned over and kissed it. "Little brother." She reached for another apple slice and bit off the end, but kept her hand on papa's belly.

 

John grinned. "That's right. Glad you're amenable to the idea. I mean, I'm glad you're okay with having a little brother. When he comes out, Daddy and I will help you hold him. Will you like that, darling?" John gently caressed his belly and gave Charlotte's small, careful hand a squeeze.

 

Charlotte nodded and swallowed her chewed apple before speaking. "Will he play with me?" She thought as big as papa's tummy was, the new baby would be big when he came out. 

 

"Of course he will, when he gets big enough. You've seen babies before, they can't do a whole lot until they learn to walk. So you'll need to be careful with him, and wait on him to catch up to you." John smiled and brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. 

 

Charlotte nodded and grabbed another apple slice. "Does the baby want an apple?" she asked, holding it up to papa. 

 

John shook his head a little, smiling. “No thanks, sweetheart. Baby's a bit sleepy right now. Besides, we're going to eat dinner soon." He licked his lips thoughtfully. “Your baby brother and I sort of share food. Whenever I eat something, he gets part of it. He's got a special tube attached to his stomach that sends the food straight to his belly when I eat. That's why I've been eating so much, because your little brother needs some, too."

 

"Huh." Charlotte withdrew her offered apple and popped it in her own mouth. She felt the baby move under her hand again and looked up at papa, smiling. "Go to sleep, little brother. Papa will give you dinner soon." She patted gently and then looked up and past papa's head, her smile growing wider when she saw that Daddy was home. "Sssh, daddy, the baby is sleeping. Don't wake him up, he's tiiiiiired."

 

John turned and smiled sheepishly, seeing Sherlock’s slightly bewildered expression. "Sorry, you missed the reveal. I figured it was about time, since Miss Charlotte's little brother will be here in just a few weeks." John patted his stomach gently and smiled to his daughter and husband.

 

Charlotte slid off the seat and ran over to Daddy, smiling. "Papa told me that you and him love each other so my brother started to grow in Papa's belly. But papa wouldn't tell me how he gets out, he said to ask you." 

 

Sherlock cast John a disdainful glance. "Of course he did. Come on, Charlotte-" he hefted his daughter up onto his hip and carried her over to sit next to John. "Let's do a bit of learning, shall we?" He pecked a kiss to his daughter's giggling face and smiled. 

 

Charlotte wiggled down on Daddy’s lap, and listened as Sherlock started to speak. “Papa's going to have a new baby, your little brother. He's right, we love each other and we love _you_ so much, we wanted to have another baby. So he'll be in papa's belly for a few more weeks, and then papa will go into labor-" Sherlock scrunched up his face and wiggled, making Charlotte laugh anew. "His belly will get all tight, and his muscles will squeeeeeeeeeze the baby out of his body. Make sense?" 

 

Charlotte nodded, and her fumbling fingers brushed a curl out of her face. "But daddy, where does the baby come out?" 

 

Sherlock cast another look at John, as if to say 'of course'. "Well, miss Charlotte, you know your girl parts between your legs?" Charlotte nodded and blushed. "Daddy has something similar. The part of his body that holds the baby connects to it, and it stretches so that the baby can come out."

 

John sighed, but knew he shouldn't be surprised by Sherlock's explanation. He had toned it down at least enough for Charlotte to get the gist, it seemed. "Right. And when I'm... when your brother decides he's ready to come out, you'll have to stay with Uncle Greg and Uncle Mycroft, or Nana, depending on how late it is. Daddy will have to take me to the hospital to have your brother, because it's going to hurt a lot, and the doctors help me with that. But after your brother's here, I won't hurt anymore, and I'll be _very very_ happy." John smiled then exhaled a breath, pressing a hand to his aching back. He was definitely done being pregnant this time round.

 

"Does it hurt now, papa?" Charlotte asked, frowning a little. 

 

"Yes, how are you?" Sherlock inquired, sliding a hand behind John's back and rubbing gently. "I brought home Chinese for dinner. We can eat at the table, if you're up for it, or sit on the couch and watch a film. Family movie night."

 

John shook his head in agreement and gave a small smile down to Charlotte. “It hurts a little. That's just because he's getting big and heavy, and he kicks me a lot. He doesn't know any better though, not yet, so it's okay." He looked to Sherlock and shrugged. "Eating on the couch is fine. Already got my table." He patted the top of his belly and gave Charlotte a nudge. "What d'you want to watch tonight, princess?"

 

Sherlock cracked a grin and rose with a pat to John's stomach, and headed to the kitchen to dish up dinner. Charlotte hummed thoughtfully before pronouncing that a Disney princess movie would be fun. "I can teach little brother the words!" She chirped.

 

"Yes you can, darling," John cooed, kissing his daughter's curls. He was very proud that she had some affinity for learning, and always made sure to demonstrate her knowledge. "Tell Daddy the word I taught you today," he coaxed.

 

Charlotte nodded and composed herself, brushing back her curls before speaking. "I called uncle Mycroft fat," she started, and Sherlock chortled as he carried in their dinners, "and papa said it was un-lady-like and rude." 

 

Sherlock outright laughed then, and kissed Charlotte's head. "Yes, it is unladylike. True, but unladylike."

 

John elbowed Sherlock. "Don't be a tw-- a bad example," he scolded, and accepted his plate of food. "Eat at the coffee table please, Charlotte," John proclaimed, gesturing with his head for her to sit down on the floor. "You can come sit up here with daddy and papa when you finish all your chicken." He then looked up to Sherlock and gave a winning smile. "And would you mind horribly putting in Tangled? Ta."

 

Charlotte sat between them, humming along to Rapunzel's song and singing aloud for the bits she knew. "Flower gleam and gloooow, let your power shine, make the clock reverse, bring back what once was miiiine..." 

 

Sherlock happily ran his fingers through Charlotte’s hair as she sang along as best she could. His daughter had spent most of the movie leaned against John's belly, occasionally giggling when she felt her brother move. "He liked the film," she pronounced as the credits rolled. 

 

Sherlock smiled. "Oh did he, now? Well, good. I think you two will get along famously. Don't you, John?"

 

John nodded in agreement, a hand rubbing the side of his belly fondly. "I think so, yes." John looked down to Charlotte and poked her on the nose. "What do you think, love? You like your baby brother already, don't you? He likes you too, he told me so."

 

"You can _hear_ him?" Charlotte breathed incredulously. She rucked up John's jumper enthusiastically and pressed her ear to the skin. "I can't hear him, papa, what's he saying?"

 

John laughed heartily and shook his head. "No no, sweetheart, he can't talk yet." He patted his belly before he pressed a finger to his temple. "I hear him up here. You know how baby brother has a special tube that connects his stomach to me, so I can feed him? It's sort of like that. We're connected, so I know how he thinks and feels. And he loves you both very much."

 

Charlotte looked up in awe. “Does he know that we love him, too?” she asked, looking a little worried. 

 

"He knows. But _you_ can tell him, if you want. He can hear you, he just can't say anything back, he hasn't learned how to talk yet." John placed both hands on his bare belly and grinned. "You can talk to him all you want, Charlotte. Daddy and I do it all the time."

 

Charlotte gave a tentative smile. "Okay." She leaned in close and began to whisper conspiratorially. "Hello baby brother. I'm your sister. I think you're very nice. And...I love you." She pecked a kiss to papa's belly and leaned back again. "Was that good?"

 

"Very good," John cooed, and nuzzled his nose into her cheek lovingly. "He says he loves you too, and he's very lucky to have you as his big sister." He kissed her cheek repeatedly until she giggled, and he rucked his jumper back down his belly. "Now Charlotte, this also means that you're going to have to share a room with baby brother. He'll sleep with daddy and I for a while, then he'll sleep in your old crib, in your room. And he's going to cry sometimes. And he'll be loud. But you mustn't get upset with him. If he cries and wakes you up, it means he needs something, like he might need his nappy changed, or he might be hungry, or he might even just want to cuddle. So we'll come in and help him, since he won't be able to do these things himself. Do you understand?"

 

Charlotte nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, papa. I'll make sure he's safe. And if he wants a cuddle, can I cuddle? I looooooove cuddles." Charlotte smiled. 

 

Sherlock grabbed Charlotte and hoisted her onto his lap. "Like cuddles, do you? I'll cuddle you." He squeezed her tight until she laughed and then kissed her hair. "I'm very glad you're looking forward to having a brother. Papa was right, and so was the baby - he's lucky to have you as a sister."

 

John scooted closer to Sherlock with a grunt, and leaned over to kiss his mate's cheek, and rubbed his daughter's back. "I think we're all very lucky to have each other. You'll be a great big sister, love. And I bet you'll help daddy and papa a lot, eh?"

 

Charlotte nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! I want to help." A tiny yawn escaped Charlotte's lips and she leaned back against papa's arm. "Is the baby asleep, papa? I'm sleepy."

 

"Yeah, baby's asleep," John said gently. "Maybe that means he'll let me sleep for a while for once. He gets very excited and wakes me up sometimes in the night." John yawned as well and pulled Charlotte into what was left of his lap, watching as she cuddled up to his belly. "You're my good girl, you know that? Always my baby girl," John said softly.

 

"I'm not a baby," Charlotte said sleepily, and patted papa’s belly gently. "He's the baby." 

 

Sherlock smiled and reached over to stroke Charlotte's hair back from her face. "You'll always be our baby girl, Charlotte. It just means we love you."

 

Charlotte yawned. "I love you too,” she said softly, sleepily, curled up around John as best she could. 

 

"I love you so much, darling." John smiled and stroked her soft curls, then looked to Sherlock. "Carry her up, yeah?" He whispered.

 

Sherlock reached over and gently picked his daughter up, her sleepy warm form clinging to him. He tucked her in with a kiss to her forehead, and then came back down to sit with John. "That went very well, I think," he said.

 

John carded a hand through his hair and blew out a breath, clearly tired himself. "Could've gone much worse, yeah. She knows all she needs to know. She's pretty mature for her age. It'll be fine." John gave a small smile before yawning again, and he shifted himself to rest under Sherlock's arm. "I was worried she might think we were trying to replace her or something."

 

Sherlock laughed and exhaled, adjusting so that his arm draped comfortably over John's shoulders. "She's a smart little girl. She'll love the baby. Teach him everything she knows, I'm sure."

 

John sighed and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I think she'll really want to be involved with the baby." He glanced down at his belly and slid a hand down the curve, and he grinned. "He'll be a welcomed addition to our crazy little world."

 

"I'm glad we decided to have another," Sherlock murmured, and laid his own hand next to John's. "It feels more…complete. Already. And he's not even here yet."

 

"Me too." John agreed, smiling at Sherlock, then lolling his head back onto his mate's shoulder. He rubbed his belly with tender hands and blew out a breath. "Won't have to wait much longer, I think."

 

"You don't think he's going to come early, do you? You're already bigger than you were with Charlotte at full term…” Sherlock looked over, slightly concerned.

 

"I know he's going to come early. I'm not in labour now, no, before you ask. But I just... know. It'll be soon. That's why I wanted to make sure Charlotte understood." John slipped a hand beneath his belly to feel for his son's head, blowing out a breath and making a face. "He hasn't moved hardly at all today. And he's got low. Very low, Sherlock."

 

"With Charlotte…" Sherlock thought for a moment. "She was still for a few hours, and low, and you were in labour before midnight. You're full term, technically, so it could happen at any time."

 

John nodded. "Yeah. I know. We just... maybe you should pack a bag for Charlotte. Just in case. And I'll work on a hospital bag. Just so it's all ready, I..." John licked his lips. "Something does feel off, I admit."

 

"You sit and take it easy, John. I'll pack the things for both you and Charlotte." Sherlock stood, bent to kiss John's head and run a hand over his belly, and then exited the room to head upstairs. 

 

The nightlight illuminated Charlotte's room just enough that Sherlock could locate her overnight bag and find several changes of clothes without rousing his daughter by thumping around. As he zipped the bag and went for the door, he turned to look at his firstborn and smiled. "Oh, Charlotte. You may have your brother before you know it." 

 

John already had the beginnings of a hospital bag packed, babygrows and nappies stowed in the bottom of a large tote. Sherlock added a change of clothes for himself, a pair of sweat bottoms and a t-shirt and jumper for John, and a few extra blankets and hats for the new baby. He put both their bag and Charlotte's by the bedroom door, and then returned to the sitting room. "All ready to go, if needed. I think if we do end up going to the hospital, Charlotte would be fine here if we ask Mrs Hudson to come check on her early morning and stay in the flat until we get back."

 

John shook his head. "No, Sherlock, we're not going to leave our daughter up here by herself. She'll go down and stay in Mrs Hudson's guest bedroom," he said firmly. He pressed his hands to his back and looked up at the ceiling, blowing out a breath. He was especially crampy today, he admitted. John's face contorted into a wince for but a moment, and he tilted his chin down again, eyes closed. "Maybe I'm just sore."

 

"Maybe. And if you are, that's fine. There's no rush. Would a back rub help, perhaps?" Sherlock offered, sliding a hand down John's spine.

 

John shook his head. "No, I'll just get the heating pad from the bedroom." He pushed himself up before Sherlock could protest, and began waddling off into the hallway.

 

Once in the bedroom, he wobbled over to his side of the bed, and bent down to pick the heating pad off the floor. With a grunt, he grasped it, and heaved himself to stand. He smiled at the wondrous thing, muttering 'there we are', and took a single step before stopping. John sighed and licked his lips, glancing down to the puddle forming beneath his feet. "Guess that settles that," John said nonchalantly, just loudly enough for Sherlock to hear.

 

"What settles what?" Sherlock inquired, and stood to head towards the bedroom. He walked through the doorway and stopped short at the sight that greeted him. "Ah. I'll go talk to Mrs Hudson, shall I, and then fetch Charlotte?"

 

John blew out a breath and put the heating pad down, pressing his hands to his back again. "Yeah, yeah, that's good. Good idea." John took a few deep breaths, then eased himself to sit down on the bed in his wet trousers. "I'll just... wait for you to get back."

 

"Okay. I'll hurry. I'm sorry, John," Sherlock murmured, and darted over to kiss John's forehead before rushing down the stairs and knocking at Mrs Hudson's door. "It's only just quarter to nine, she must still be awake," he muttered, waiting impatiently. 

 

Their landlady was indeed still awake, and more than happy to take Charlotte when Sherlock told her that John's waters had just broken. She followed him up the stairs and he gave her Charlotte's bag, and then climbed the stairs to fetch his daughter. 

 

"Daddy?" Charlotte murmured sleepily as Sherlock lifted her out of her bed and threw her blanket over her shoulder. "What's going on?" 

 

"You know earlier, how Daddy said he'd have to go to hospital when the baby came?" Charlotte nodded and Sherlock continued. "Well, the baby decided to come now. So you're going to go stay with Gran, and I'm going to take your papa to have the baby. Would you like to say goodbye quickly?" Charlotte nodded again and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, and Sherlock averted his course to the bedroom. 

 

"Someone wants to say goodbye and wish you luck," Sherlock told John, kneeling beside his mate and propping a sleepy Charlotte on his knee.

 

John gave a small smile and reached out to kiss Charlotte's forehead. "Hey, love. Sorry to wake you. You can go back to sleep soon. Daddy's going to take me to the hospital, and probably by the time you wake up in the morning, your baby brother will be here. I-- mm," John felt his body tighten, and he closed his eyes a moment, biting back a wince. "I love you," he said quietly, and he smiled tightly. "Be a good girl, okay?"

 

"I'll be good, papa. I love you too." Charlotte reached out to hug her papa, and Sherlock lifted her so she could do so. "Be good, baby," she whispered, and hugged his belly on the way back down. 

 

Sherlock picked his little girl back up and stood. "I'll be back in just a moment. Have you called for a cab?" John shook his head and Sherlock pulled his mobile from his pocket, handing it to his husband. "If you can. I'll get her settled in and then be back up." 

 

Sherlock led the way back down the stairs to Mrs Hudson's, Charlotte clinging sleepily to his torso. He laid her down on his landlady's mattress and covered her with her blanket, kissing her and wishing her sweet dreams once more. "Thank you," he said to Mrs Hudson as she closed the door quietly. 

 

"Oh, Sherlock, I'm more than happy to watch her. She's such a little dear, and you've got slightly more pressing matters to attend to. Should I expect a call when the baby's born, so I can relay the news?" 

 

"Of course." Sherlock accepted a hug from his landlady, and then she ushered him back out, wishing he and John good luck. He returned quickly to their bedroom, unsurprised to find that John was still sitting on the mattress. "Any developments?"

 

John shook his head. "Not... really, no. I called for a cab. It'll be here in ten." He blew out a breath and rocked back and forth a moment, cupping his belly. "Just... tense really-- _oh_.” He gasped and grit his teeth, a rather sudden and intense pain coursing through him. "Oh, god... Help me change... In a minute... Jesus, fuck."

 

Sherlock nodded and slid a hand over to rub John's back soothingly. "Breathe through it if you can, John. Good, good." When it seemed that the spasm had ended, Sherlock gently pulled John to his feet and stripped his trousers and pants off, helping his mate out of his damp clothes and into a pair of loose, comfortable sweat trousers. "Okay? Would you like to change out of your jumper, as well?"

 

"It's just going to come off at the hospital, anyway," John said, waving a hand. He gripped the edge of the bed a moment and bounced a moment before looking to Sherlock. "Should go downstairs. Get the bag."

 

"I'll help you down the stairs. No use making a second trip." Sherlock wrapped a supporting arm around John's lower back and they made their slow way out of the bedroom and out of the flat, turning off lights as they went. "Next time we come in, we'll be a family of four," Sherlock remarked as he locked their flat and began to descend the stairs.

 

John gave a huff of a laugh, not finding it in himself to see that fact quite as remarkable as Sherlock at the moment, and carefully made his way down the steps. "Yep. A mate and two kids. Bet you never saw this coming, did you?" John teased slightly, though his voice lacked amusement.

 

No, Sherlock had never really anticipated mating and having children, but that all changed when he met John. Changed for the better, Sherlock thought, glancing over at Mrs Hudson's flat and thinking of how peacefully his first child slept as the second made his way into the world. 

 

Once to the bottom of the stairs, John leaned heavily on the wall and took a few breaths, holding his stomach. "He's... very eager, to get out, I think. Sneaky, too. Almost... didn't notice."

 

"Almost didn't notice...that you were in labour?" Sherlock rubbed John's back as his mate leant against the wall. "How low is he? If your waters have broken, he's got to be close."

 

"Low enough," John muttered, raising his eyebrows. He cupped the underside of his belly and started to feel around. "Yep, he's starting to descend. Almost can't feel his head at all. Pretty close. Oh, god." John reached out to grip Sherlock's shoulders and squeezed, his body contracting and making him tense. "God, christ, they're already... Fuck..." If it weren't for the distracting pain, he could have given some sort of number, but he knew the gap between contractions was only minutes.

 

"Moving fast," Sherlock muttered, and peered out the window to see if the cab had arrived. The street was still bare, traffic slow with the lateness of the hour. "Cab will be here any minute, and traffic should be light. We'll get you to the hospital quickly," he assured his mate, his hand still on the man's back, moving up and down soothingly.

 

John nodded lightly and rubbed his belly with both hands, blowing his breaths out softly. "Good. Good, yeah." He looked down to his stomach. "Slow down, all right? There's no rush. Really. Take your time."

 

Sherlock was more than relieved when the cab pulled up in front of their flat, and he guided John outside and into the cab before doubling back to grab the bag and sliding in the other side. He gave the address and then slipped his arm around John's shoulders, pulling his mate to rest against his shoulder. "Hang tight in there," he murmured to John's belly. "You'll get your chance soon enough."

 

John took long deep breaths and closed his eyes, trying to relax in Sherlock's hold. "Hopefully... It'll be easier than the first time. Now that I know what to expect," he noted, hands splayed across his belly protectively. "He's in the right position, I think. You ready, Sherlock?"

 

"I am," Sherlock replied. "I thought I mightn't be, if he came early, but I am. Everything's ready at home, and I think I'm as eager to meet our son as he is to meet us." He smiled and squeezed John's shoulder.

 

John nodded and visibly winced, grunting through another contraction and gripping Sherlock's wrist. After a minute, he sighed and relaxed, drowning in his Alpha's warmth.

 

He must have drifted off, thankfully, because only a moment later, the cab was stopped and Sherlock was nudging him into consciousness. Disoriented, he allowed Sherlock to help him out of the cab, and groaned once he was standing. Jesus, the baby was _low_ , and John could barely walk. He held onto Sherlock's arm and wobbled slowly into the hospital, until a nurse caught sight of him and came briskly with a wheelchair. John dropped into it with relief and held his belly, giving a quick 'thank you', then looked up to Sherlock. "Sign me in, and see if _my_ doctor isn't in."

 

Sherlock nodded and trotted off to the nurse's station, making quick work of signing his mate in and checking for the availability of his OB-GYN. He returned to where John sat, looking tense and uncomfortable in his wheelchair, and shook his head solemnly. "He is in, but with another patient right now. If our baby waits another forty-five minutes to an hour, perhaps he might be available, but they can't make guarantees."

 

John rolled his eyes. "For Christ's sake," he muttered, then sighed, looking up to the nurse. "Okay, yeah, take me to my room then. I want out of this bloody fucking thing," he said, practically sneering at the wheelchair, then shifted. The growing pressure in his pelvis wasn't helping his mood at all, and he was uncomfortable as Sherlock wheeled him to their assigned suite.

 

Once in his room, he made quick work of changing, with Sherlock's help, and soon John was on the bed, sitting and curled over his belly. He growled and rocked back and forth, and instinctively parted his knees. "Fucking... No, this baby is _not_ going to bloody wait an hour, I've-- ngh --got to be as dilated as a sodding dinner plate."

 

"You must have been experiencing subtle contractions all day if you've dilated this quickly," Sherlock remarked, and stretched to press the call button. A few moments later, a nurse arrived. 

 

"How can I help you, Mr Watson?" she asked politely, and as John was in the midst of a contraction, Sherlock responded for him. 

 

"His doctor is with another patient, but he's very dilated and needs to be checked as soon as possible. I believe," Sherlock continued, looking slightly sideways at John, "that he may need to push soon." 

 

"I can check, and call a physician in if necessary," the nurse replied, and slipped on a pair of gloves before guiding John to lay back on the bed. "Oh, you are quite far along," she remarked, withdrawing after a few moments. "Just over eight centimetres. Not long now. Would you like me to ring for a physician?"

 

John clenched his teeth and didn't respond for a moment, doing his best not to say something impolite. _Unladylike_ , he remembered. But honestly, what sort of question was that? He exhaled a breath and nodded. "Yes, please," he said hoarsely.

 

When the nurse left, John turned to look at Sherlock and laid back. "God, it's all happening so fast. Fuck, I should have noticed, why didn't I notice?" John looked frustrated and groaned, his body starting to contract again. He clutched his belly and leant forward again, finding curling in on himself eased the pain in his back. "Shit, fucking hell," he cursed, before hissing out breaths through his teeth.

 

"She didn't seem concerned, John, but you are in a hospital, there's no shortage of people who are here to help." Sherlock reached over and laid a hand on John's arm, pressing lightly. "It's all going to be fine, you're doing wonderfully already." 

 

Thankfully, after just a few minutes of waiting, a physician entered and introduced himself. "Dr Phillips," he said, extending a hand for Sherlock and John to shake in turn. "Nurse Shelley tells me you're getting ready to push. How are things feeling?"

 

"He's low. Very close. Lots of pressure," John said, lying back and attempting to catch his breath. "I know it's close. He's coming much faster than my first did, but... This, this is familiar, I've got a fuc-- a rather heavy and large grapefruit sized head at my relatively wide cervix. I just need to know when I can push." John said matter-of-factly.

 

"Not your first time, then. Good. Did a lot of labouring at home, if you've just got here and you're this far in. That's dedication." Dr Phillips jotted a few notes down on his chart and leaned over to open a drawer and slip on a pair of gloves. He looked up apologetically as he spread John's legs again, and disappeared for a moment before drawing back and nodding. "Very, very close. Which you know. I'll be back to check in fifteen minutes, see if you're ready then. I doubt it'll take much longer than that. Is there anything else I can get you while I'm here?" The doctor pulled off his gloves and stood, tossing them in the bin. 

 

Sherlock reached for John's hand and squeezed it briefly, looking at his mate. "Ice chips, maybe, if you're thirsty?"

 

John shook his head, his brow furrowed. "No. No, I'm fine. Perfectly hydrated. Enough to get me through the rest of this," he said confidently. 

 

John thanked the doctor as he left, experienced another contraction, panted through it, and relaxed. He squeezed Sherlock's hand in return and tilted his head to look at him. "Family of four, before the night's even up," he said with a slight smile. "Ready?"

 

"Ready." Sherlock returned John's smile with one of his own. "And how about you, in there? Are you ready?" he asked, leaning down to press a kiss to the bulge of John's stomach.

 

"Yeah, apparently," John said with a huff and rolled his eyes. "You're going to be full of surprises, aren't you?" He asked his belly and leaned back. He glanced over to Sherlock and took a few deep inhales before releasing the air in his lungs. "I think I want to be on my knees. Get him out quick. Won't come out easy lying down, will he?"

 

"Proven time and time again that on your knees is the fastest labouring position, yes," Sherlock agreed. "And I think he's larger than Charlotte was, so it may be easier for you to stretch on your knees than lying down."

 

John nodded. "That's what I was thinking. Gravity and all that. Oh, Jesus, here it comes..." He hissed and gripped Sherlock's hand, groaning loudly, a shift in his body startling him, until he realised it was his baby's head dropping into the birth canal. "Fuck, fuck, shit, got to push-- Sherlock, he's coming, if I can't... fucking... push... I'm gonna bloody _scream_."

 

Sherlock's eyes went wide and he instantly pressed the call button. Seconds later, the physician and nurse both darted back in, saw John in the throes of pain, and snapped to action. 

 

Dr Phillips snatched a pair of gloves and pulled them on hurriedly before ducking between John's legs. "That went fast, yes, ten centimetres, Dr Watson, you can push. Hard, go!"

 

John shook his head and grunted, gripped Sherlock's hand tightly and looked at the doctor. "No... No, I want t-- get on my knees--" he interrupted his own protest by instinctually giving a long, hard push. He curled forward, stopping mid-push to take a few whooshing breaths, then continued, growling.

 

"Push through this contraction, and then Nurse Shelley, your mate, and I will turn you over. But we can't stop in the middle of a contraction, keep pushing,” the doctor urged as the contraction waned. "Alright, John, good. You're a strong man. Just hang tight for a moment, and we'll help you turn over, okay? Do you want on hands and knees, or to hold onto your mate's shoulders?" Dr Phillips inquired.

 

John stopped pushing and inhaled shakily to take a breath, and he licked his lips. "Sherlock," he breathed, looking to his mate. He waited until Sherlock took off his jacket, and winced as everyone moved to help him into the new position, his knees spread, clinging to Sherlock. "Okay... Okay, better, yes."

 

Sherlock laced his arms under John's and let them rest in the middle of John's back, far enough from the sacrum that he wouldn't add to the incredible pressure John was feeling. John's head was down at the moment, neck limp as he tried to relax, and Sherlock pressed small kisses to his hair as they waited. "You're doing very well, John, we'll meet our little boy soon."

 

John breathed into Sherlock's neck, focusing on his scent, before he felt the urge to push again. He gripped Sherlock's shoulders tight and took a deep breath before bearing down, shaking with his body's tension, and feeling the baby slowly moving down, but steadily, and knew that the head was at his entrance. In a burst of enthusiasm, John added a hard push at the end of the contraction, feeling the head start to bulge. "Oh! God, there... he is…"

 

"Very good, John," Dr Phillips said from his position between John's legs. "He's close to crowning, very good. You'll have him out in no time, at this rate." 

 

Sherlock moved one hand up to cup John's cheek, gently tipping his head up until he could look into his mate's eyes. "So strong," he murmured, running his thumb along John's cheekbone. "Working so hard. Beautiful."

 

John blew out a breath and looked deeply into Sherlock's eyes before closing his own. He pressed a kiss to his mate's neck and sighed, panting hard at the insane amount of pressure. On the next push, he would be crowning. And not long after that, his baby boy would be born and in the morning, Charlotte would get to see him, too, their family of four united for the first time.

 

John bore down with a strangled grunt, surprised by his own strength, then cried out as he began to stretch open. He took a break and took a deep breath before pushing as hard as he could, the baby's head pushing to a crown startlingly quick. "Good God! Buggering...mff. Ahh, not a good burn, that, nope," John moaned.

 

Both Sherlock and Dr Phillips chuckled sympathetically. "I know," Sherlock murmured, and kissed his mate's forehead again and stroked his back. 

 

"Three more pushes, I think, John, and you'll have him," Dr Phillips stated, and Sherlock closed his eyes and exhaled a shaky breath. 

 

"You can do it, John. Your son will be here any minute."

 

"Our son," John quickly said, then hissed, his entrance aching. "Charlotte's... brother." John parted his knees even further, the head coming down of its own accord and brushing his thighs. He panted roughly, knowing very well he could get the head out without pushing, and buried his face in Sherlock's shirt. He felt his son's head slide out little by little, then gasped as he felt the head pop out of him, and hang heavy between his legs. "Almost…done…right?"

 

"Very close," Dr Phillips encouraged. "Shoulders will be harder, you've got a big boy here, but I've no doubt you can make it seem like a cakewalk." 

 

Sherlock cupped John's head and whispered encouragements in his ear. "So close, John. You're doing so well, not long now." John gave a nod, comforted by Sherlock's praising. He was almost done, and he'd have his second child, his new baby.

 

John gripped Sherlock's shoulders hard, and licked his lips and panted as he waited for a contraction. When it came around, squeezing his muscles, John pushed with a long cry, doing his best to bring out the wide shoulders. He yelled when one slid from him, and he grunted. "Want…give him to... me when... right after. Pass him... through my legs..." He demanded intensely, before pushing the other shoulder forth with a primal growl.

 

"Of course," Sherlock and the doctor said simultaneously, and Sherlock bent forward slightly under the pressure of John's grasp. 

 

"One last hard push, John, and you'll have him," Dr Phillips said, and Sherlock continued to murmur endless streams of comfort into John's ear. He could feel his mate's tension in every point of contact, the strings of his muscles vibrating on an intense frequency that nearly sang with pain. "That's it, that's it, keep going!"

 

"God, he's big," John murmured. Charlotte had just slid right out when he'd pushed out her shoulders, but this boy seemed to be stubborn. John took a moment for himself, closing his eyes, reminding himself that his son was about to be born. He was about to have his second baby. Make a family of four.

 

John pushed, gathering up the last of his energy to bring this new life out, and with an incredible stretch, his baby slid out, and John gasped, before immediately looking down past his deflated stomach. He rested his head on Sherlock's chest, panting, and put down his hands expectantly. "Oh, God, let me see... Need to see him..."

 

Dr Phillips handed the slippery baby up to John and Sherlock leant back just enough that he could hold John up and see their son at the same time. "God, he's beautiful," Sherlock whispered, and smiled as John clutched their son to his chest. "You did so well, John, we're a family of four now."

 

John laughed softly and shifted the baby boy around so he rested in the crook of his arm, the baby beginning to squirm and whimper. "God, look at you, hello, hello, handsome boy," John cooed, starting to tear up. "Hello. God... Sherlock, he..." He smiled and chuckled, watching as the little boy started to work out his lungs, a quick, displeased screech escaping his throat. "He looks... like me... Oh..."

 

"He looks so much like you. He's got his papa's nose and lips, and blond hair…hello, little one, you're so pretty like your papa." Sherlock sniffled and reached down to touch his new son's cheek. "God, he is beautiful, John." 

 

"Would daddy like to cut the cord?" Dr Phillips asked quietly, and Sherlock nodded. The clamps were on in a moment, and as John looked on, Sherlock took the scissors and severed the baby's body from his father's. He looked up with a smile and leaned forward to drop a quick kiss on John's cheek, and then looked back down at their baby boy. 

 

"God, it's just as incredible as it was the first time." He smiled even wider and put his large finger on the baby's tiny palm, inhaling when the baby's little fingers instantly and instinctively wrapped around it.

 

John blew out a breath and began rocking the boy gently, and kissed his forehead, before handing him over to the nurse to clean and look over. John leaned against Sherlock and sighed tiredly. "Help... Help me lie down, yeah?"

 

Once his back was to the bed, he closed his eyes and groaned, realizing at last just how much pain he was actually in. "God... He was big... Got to be eight pounds, at least." John flicked his eyes open to look at Sherlock, gripping his hand. "Our son needs a name, love."

 

"That he does." Sherlock looked over to where the nurse was wiping their new son clean of blood and fluid and afterbirth, and then down to John, recovering on the mattress. He squeezed John's hand and thought for a moment. "Gideon. A strong name for our strong boy. Do you like it?"

 

John chuckled. "God. Only you would come up with a name like that. I love it. Char's going to have a damnable time trying to say it, I think. Eon, for short? Like 'I-A-N', but... yeah, you know." John smiled and looked back over to where his boy was being cleaned and then swaddled, and beamed when he was brought back over. "Hello, love. Welcome back." John grinned and brought the snuffling infant to his chest. "Hello, Gideon. And welcome to the family."

 

* * *

 

Sherlock had called Mrs Hudson as they were receiving their discharge papers, letting her know that they would be home in under an hour with their son. Though she asked, Sherlock staunchly refused to tell his landlady the boy's name, wanting it to be a surprise for the both of them when they got to meet him. 

 

Mrs Hudson and Charlotte were sitting on the sofa when Sherlock opened the door, and his daughter let out an eager squeal and ran over to hug her daddy's legs. "Hello, darling. Did you miss us?" 

 

"Yes, daddy," she said breathlessly, gazing up at the bundle in John's arms. "Is that my brother?"

 

John positively beamed and looked down at his daughter and nodded. "It certainly is, Miss Charlotte. Do you want to see him?"

 

When the girl nodded eagerly, John began walking over to the couch, and eased into it, still slightly sore from the birth, and sat back, still smiling. "Come on up then. He was very excited to meet you, so he decided to come early. Come meet your little brother, love. He's sleeping right now, so try not to get loud."

 

"He's really little," Charlotte stage-whispered, following John over to the couch and clambering up beside him. "Why is he so little, if your belly was so big?" She held her hands out in front of herself to demonstrate. 

 

Sherlock chuckled softly, along with Mrs Hudson and John. "Babies aren't the only thing that grow in papa's belly when they're in there. There's all kinds of other…stuff…that goes along with babies growing, and there has to be room for that as well." 

 

"Oh," Charlotte replied, and nodded as if that clarified everything. "What's brother's name? I want to tell him hello."

 

John took a breath and reached an arm to wrap around Charlotte and brought her closer. "Charlotte, this is Gideon. But if you can't say it, you can call him Ian, as a nickname, like how I call you Char sometimes." He looked over to Sherlock and smiled. "Daddy picked it. I think it's a nice name, don't you?" And he sent a grin to Mrs Hudson as well.

 

Charlotte pursed her lips and thought. "Did-did-ddddgddddgideon. Dddgdideon. It's hard, Papa." She worked her tongue a few times, and Sherlock bit back a laugh. "Ddgideon. Ian. Hi, Ian. I'm Charlotte," she whispered exaggeratedly, leaning towards her baby brother. "I'm your sister. I said hi to you yesterday, when you were still in papa's tummy."

 

John smiled at Charlotte, then looked down to little Gideon who began moving his little arms  and stuck out his tongue. "I think he likes you, princess," he said, and kissed the top of her head. "Starting to wake up now."

 

Sherlock watched the amazed look on Charlotte's face as the baby-doll in John's arms started to move. "Papa, he looks like you," she said, and reached out with chubby fingers to touch his hand. 

 

"Oh, look at his eyes, Sherlock, he has your eyes," Mrs Hudson cooed, and clutched Sherlock's arm as his son opened his steely blue eyes. 

 

"Yes, he has. But he's got his papa's everything else." Sherlock smiled and reached over to rub Charlotte's back. "What do you think, love? Can we keep him?" 

 

She looked up at her daddy, grinning. "I like him, Daddy. I think he's very pretty."

 

John giggled and looked down to Charlotte with a grin. "Do you want to hold him? He'll be a bit heavy, so you'll have to sit in Daddy's lap and he'll help you, all right?" He looked to Sherlock with a nod and his eyes sparkled. This would be a special moment for all of them - definitely one John would always remember.

 

Charlotte nodded eagerly and scrambled to sit in Sherlock's lap, reaching out for her baby brother. "Arms like this," Sherlock said, and mimicked a cradle. Charlotte shaped her arms the same way, and Sherlock made sure his were beneath hers so he could bear most of the weight. "Ready?" Charlotte nodded again and Sherlock looked up to John, beaming. “Alright, papa, we're ready to hold Gideon."

 

John beamed and kissed Charlotte’s head before shifting Gideon and handing him over and into Charlotte's lap, the boy making small content snuffles. He made sure Sherlock had a good hold on the baby before John let go. "There we go. How's that?"

 

Charlotte looked stunned to be holding the baby, and Sherlock understood how she felt - less than 24 hours prior, Gideon had been snug in John's belly. Hugging John's belly and holding the baby it contained were two different things entirely. "What do you think, Miss Charlotte? Is he a big baby?" 

 

"He's _heavy_ ," Charlotte whispered. "He's so pretty, though." She adjusted her arms and Gideon wriggled against her, and she smiled brightly. "Hello, Gdgideon. Do you remember me? I talked to you yesterday."

 

"I think he remembers," John said with a smile. He scooted closer so he could see over his daughter and mate, holding his newborn son, and he reached out to stroke Gideon's fine hair, his eyes flicking around - unfocused, but the baby seemed content. "He seems very happy. He's right where he belongs, with his daddy and papa and big sister."

 

Sherlock leaned down and pressed a kiss to Charlotte's curly hair. "He's lucky to have such a smart, kind older sister to teach him." 

 

Charlotte smiled and leaned down slowly until her lips were right over Gideon's tiny forehead. "I love you, little brother," she whispered, and pressed a kiss to his soft skin. 

 

"He loves you, too," Sherlock murmured. "And so do Papa and I."


End file.
